


Cat Naps

by alltoldtalltales (TaleWorthTelling)



Category: Farscape
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 17:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10768893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWorthTelling/pseuds/alltoldtalltales
Summary: A brief, quiet moment between Chiana and Crichton.





	Cat Naps

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of feelings about the relationship between these two.

Chiana has learned to appreciate the little things in life, the ones that should be a given but aren't. Sleep is one of those. She really, really likes to sleep -- not all the time, she's too wired for that, but the feeling of waking up from a deep, peaceful slumber and being able to roll over and slip right back into it, that's precious. It's fleeting and a luxury very rarely afforded to her. So she sleeps when she can, because now she really can. Even though she could at any moment be awoken to some impending disaster or other, it's hard to ignore that for the first time, sleep is safe. She can shut her eyes and know that for those vulnerable hours, she is safe. And that is a very new feeling.

She still stirs when someone enters her room, but sometimes she stays relaxed, pretends to still be asleep, not for the tactical advantage but so she won't be bothered. It's usually D'argo, grabbing something he'd left in her room. Less often it's Crichton, just watching her breathe, standing in the quiet and semi-darkness. If it were anyone else she'd find it creepy, but even though she's not always sure about his motives, even though they've had their friction and misunderstandings, their sharp moments, there's something comforting about the fact that humans do this, like she'd always hoped her parents would but they never did. (Nerri had. Every night.) 

Tonight, though, instead of his usual minute of contemplation and then an equally silent departure, he sits. 

"I know you know I'm here," he says. His voice is flat in that way it's been since Grayza, the way it's been deadening all these years and they've ignored. Chiana won't dignify it because Crichton's still here, still alive, still vital, and he's a survivor like her.

She cracks one eye open and stretches.

"You look like a cat when you do that."

"I hope that's flattering," she mutters, yawning. Whatever a cat is.

"It is," he says. "I'm not a cat guy, but they're cool. Graceful."

She flops over onto her back, raising her eyebrows at him.

"Why do you let me stay? You could throw me out, any time. You never say anything."

"Why do you watch me?" she counters.

His face creases while he thinks. "I don't know," he finally says. "I like reminding myself that you're here."

"Aeryn, too?"

He winces. There's too much baggage there, but she can tell he'd like to, if she'd let him. She wouldn't, though. 

"A lot of what's in my head is lies. A lot of what I see isn't real. You're real."

She weighs a few answers on her tongue, face turned into her pillow. "You're pretty real yourself," she settles on. She doesn't know how to tell him that it warms her from the inside out, so she doesn't. The fact that she lets him stay probably says it all.

He taps on the doorframe before he turns to leave. "Goodnight, Pip."


End file.
